Real People
by planet p
Summary: [Alternate Universe - Out of Character - BULLYING] Missy's good at a lot of things, but teaching is not one of them.


Real People by planet p

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or any of its characters.

[Alternate Universe - Out of Character - BULLYING]

Missy's good at a lot of things, but teaching is not one of them.

* * *

1995

There was a feeling in the air, a buzz: more than the crunch of gravel underfoot (grounding, satisfying) or the gentle brush of cooling breeze, pine-kissed, shadow-dappled, stained with the perfume of cut grass; the way midday melted into afternoon, a candy with the colour sucked out. The holiday park spread out before them like a kind of Christmas tree: branches and pretty baubles aplenty. Something like anticipation and excitement, nostalgia and disappointment all rolled into one. There was the children's playground and the park, the picnic tables sitting under tall, shady pines; there was the pool and the car park; there was the toilet block and the laundry room and the gazebos and the barbeques. There was, according to the complimentary map, even a mini golf course for the kids, and a tennis court for the grown ups.

There was also this din, the hum of humanity, and it set Missy's teeth on edge. Everywhere she looked, it was there. Nothing could dissuade it, or dislodge it. It was still there, in the back of her mind, gnawing right through her skull into her brain. The smell of them upset her stomach and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she'd still be hearing them long past the hour when everyone went to bed. They were equal measures pervasive and destructive.

She turned down a road, paper map in hand, and headed for the cabin circled in red ink. This was where she would be staying for the next few days, along with Dr. Chang, who wasn't talking to anyone. The last she'd heard was that he had a migraine and he just wanted to lay down. Far from glad that she wouldn't have to listen to his inane jabbering for a couple of hours at least, she'd really just wanted to get rid of him. She figured she had a bit of the same thing, something to do with the leech-like creatures they'd encountered in the swamp they'd just managed to drag themselves out of before landing here. The ache in the back of her skull was making her very morose, and the smell of burning meat from the family having a barbeque absolutely turned her stomach. Her hair was wrangled into a messy bun and still drying from the less than thorough shower she'd taken in the TARDIS to wash the mud and slime of the swamp from her aching body. She could feel the grit still in her hair, snug against her scalp. To get it out would've taken hours, and she just couldn't stomach any more water.

She reached the cabin and opened the sliding door with the key she'd been given back at the front office. She was greeted by a familiar closed-in smell that was not the least comforting. A quick glance was all she needed to know where everything was and it was all she took; all the rest was too much effort.

Chang was already at the sink, pouring himself a glass of water. She slid the door closed and made sure it was locked. She left the key in the lock and pulled the curtains closed, leaving them in a kind of twilight. The darker it was, so much the better. She let her hair out of its bun and set the alligator clip down on the table with a tiny sound, then she walked through to the bedroom, slipped her shoes off, and sprawled out on the bed. She didn't even bother pulling back the covers. She just lay down on her stomach, closed her eyes, and slept. Outside, the sun moved steadily toward the horizon and the air grew thick with the hum of insect chatter.

Dr. Chang put a glass of water on the nightstand and collected her shoes up, leaving them neatly on the floor by the edge of the bed. Everything in order, he left to curl up on the sofa.

* * *

Missy woke at midday the following day. The sky was full of clouds, the air dreary, and everything was much quieter. People were indoors, watching TV or playing board games, or perhaps they'd gone out to spend their money.

Missy poured the water from the glass she'd found on her nightstand into the sink and refilled it again, taking just a few sips. The taste wasn't on her list of favourites. Across the room, Chang was sleeping on the floor, hugging one of the cushions from the sofa. She didn't bother waking him. She picked her alligator clip up and left via the sliding door, barefoot and hair down. The air was heavy and she found it much easier to breathe.

She slowly walked back to the TARDIS and parked it beside the cabin, disguised as a minivan. Her head was feeling better and she was, she decided, hungry.

It was time to wake Dr. Chang.

* * *

A few weeks later, Missy had knocked up a working model of a child, approximately eleven years of age and of Asian descent, appearance-wise. She named the girl Anita; Anita was her daughter.

The first night Missy brought Anita home, she and Chang had a big fight. He called her perverse and, in a fit of anger, she yelled back that he would know, wouldn't he? Thankfully, Anita was still ironing out some bugs in her systems so she mainly slept, unaware of the shouting match going on. Missy threw Chang out of the cabin and as she'd never given him a key for the TARDIS he had nowhere else to go but the gazebo. Both the laundry and the toilet block required a key and she hadn't bothered to lend him any favours by giving him it, so he just stayed in the gazebo and did his best not to freeze into a popsicle.

He really shouldn't have yelled at her, in hindsight, but he'd made the mistake of forgetting who and what she was, he'd forgotten that she wasn't human, and far more than that, she was very ill, and yes, he'd lost it. He still thought it was perverse, and yes, he would know, but he was glad all she'd done was lock him out. She obviously still needed him, if only for Anita's sake, so he'd have to find a way to pull himself together, grit his teeth, and just get through it.

She'd never told him about their missions in the past, and she likely never would, but maybe this one was going to take a while.

It was nearly morning when he finally fell asleep, and he was woken a few hours later by another visitor to the park, the man clearly thinking he'd had too much to drink the night before. Chang didn't correct him and walked back to the cabin but it was still locked. He sat down by the red minivan that was really Missy's TARDIS and went back to sleep.

When he woke again, it was to find Anita peering down at him with concern, her big dark eyes properly seeing him for the first time. "Daddy," she cried, "we were so worried!" Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him.

Missy stood by the open door, glowering, until he climbed to his feet and took Anita's hand, promising to make it up to her. She smiled brightly and dragged him back inside for (late, late) breakfast which turned out to be a bowl of Fruit Loops and a cup of unpleasant, reheated coffee. Missy didn't stop glowering the whole time; she just stood somewhere Anita wouldn't see her unless she turned her head in that particular direction and went right on glaring at him.

It wasn't the most comfortable late, late breakfast ever, but he was still alive and that, probably, had to count for something.

* * *

Anita's favourite book was a picture book about a girl Chang called Pumpkin (seeing as she had no name), who reminded Anita of herself, with the encouraging title of Who's That Outside My Door? Admittedly, Dr. Chang had chosen it himself (from the grand total of three storybooks the TARDIS library had on offer). It was bright, the illustrations were pretty, and he thought Anita would like it. She did. That was all that mattered.

Once he'd read the book to her a few times, after she'd brushed her teeth but before bed, Anita liked to read along, her dark eyes wide with excitement. "Crunch, smoosh, flop!" she'd cry, peering intently into Pumpkin's wide inky eyes. "Who's that outside my door?"

And then they had to turn the page for the next part: "Could it be the vacuum cleaner fighting in an epic duel with the broom? Cling, clang, vroom – the winner gets the floor!"

Missy, standing just inside the door, stifled a snicker with her hand, her eyes glimmering condescendingly. Children's storybooks amused her, especially those penned by humans.

"Crunch, smoosh, flop!" Anita beamed. "Who's that outside my door?"

And there, on the next page, was a cluster of pearly white and golden yellow stars in row boats and rafts or simply swimming alone into the dark, dark water. "Could it be the stars going home now that the day is done? Splish, splash, twinkle – can you count them all?"

Then Anita touched all of the stars, smiling at each one in turn and counting them softly, one by one.

"Crunch, smoosh, flop! Who's that outside my door?" she asked along with Pumpkin and Daddy. "Could it be a monster come to lend my bear? Growl, grumble, sniffle – the night is long and even monsters get bored!"

There was another snicker from Missy who mouthed "Not a chance", and on the page, there was the monster, looking sad and lonely for everyone had run away scared, and there, waiting with open arms, was a big, cuddly teddy bear.

Anita snuggled closer to Chang and whispered: "Crunch, smoosh, flop! Who's that outside my door? Maybe I'd better check, just to be sure!"

Over by the door, Missy was fighting not to laugh, and Chang ignored her and read the next part: "Crunch, smoosh, flop! Who's that outside my door?"

Anita turned the page very delicately and her eyes lit up like little lanterns, the same way Pumpkin's did, for standing there on the other side of the door…

"Why, I know that face, that smile and that quilt! I even know those crisps, from my very favourite store!

"Crunch, smoosh, flop! Who's that outside my door?

"Would you like to come in for a while? I wouldn't mind the company. In fact, seeing as it's you, I think it's something I'd adore!"

"Crunch, smoosh, flop!" Anita giggled. "I love you, big sister!" She looked up at Chang with her big dark eyes and a smile, waiting:

"Crunch, smoosh, flop! I love you more."

"Crunch, smoosh, flop! You aren't scared anymore?" she asked.

"Crunch, smoosh, flop! No, but be sure and close the door!"

Then, along with Pumpkin and Peanut, she fell about in giggles, whispering: "Goodnight, big sister."

"Goodnight, little sister."

And then, with Chang, and even Missy, over by the door, they read the very last part: "Goodnight, everyone."

And that was the end. And it was time for bed.

Missy left a kiss on Anita's head and walked back to the kitchen. She was going to have to get the kid a new book, something more age appropriate. Very soon, Anita would be enrolled in school.

Chang stayed to tuck Anita in and turn out the light, leaving the tiny curtain open so she'd still have a little light and hopefully she wouldn't feel so alone in her little room with the bunk made for two. Though she was essentially a robot powered by an AI program, she was programmed to learn and to feel just like any child, not to mention all of the other perverse little details: the fact that she could grow, or that she ate, or her tendency to steal tiny sips of his coffee when Missy wasn't looking (which he really didn't mind). He wasn't backing down – it was perverse as hell – but now, at least, he thought he had a friend. A friend who could never be fully trusted, but a friend nonetheless. It was better than nothing.

He returned to the kitchen to take the antibiotics he'd been prescribed for his pneumonia, and sat staring at Missy with her notebook, marking down her observations of Anita's progress while occasionally taking little sips of her coffee. That, at least, made him smile. She didn't know it, but she had that in common with Anita, just as if they were really mother and daughter. Anita had even picked up on Missy's frown, the one she got when she was concentrating on some thought or other, and that was another thing that made him smile.

* * *

1997

By the time Anita was thirteen, they'd moved out of the holiday park and into a little apartment over a florist's shop, and Missy had bought a minivan so she could drive Anita and her school friends to soccer and ice creams afterward. Anita's best friend, though, was a girl two years older than her, tall, tanned, and with a mane of honey blonde hair. Her name was Mary and Anita absolutely adored her. Anything Mary did, Anita wanted to do it too. Anything Mary said, Anita agreed with a smile in her eyes. When they had sleepovers, they read Who's That Outside My Door? together and laughed for hours, talking in whispers, and behind their hands, about anything and everything. They even had crisps (supplied by Chang, who always gave into all of Anita's pleading puppy dog looks, and was left to sweep up the crumbs the next day when Anita was out of the apartment studying hard at school).

On Fridays, when Anita went out with Mary to the Movies or went to the mall with her school friends and their mums, Missy took to staying up late and watching talk shows on the TV. She never got along with the other mums and she knew for a fact they thought she was an uptight bitch. It shouldn't have bothered her, and it didn't, not as much as they thought and not as much as it might have had she been someone else, but she didn't like the way they looked at Anita, knowing she had an uptight bitch for a mother. So she stayed up and watched late night TV with Chang, who had always slept on the sofa, and pretended she was fine with it all.

Waking up on Saturday morning, Anita tiptoed into the living room and smiled a quiet smile and went to turn the TV off. Even if her parents pretended they hated each other, she knew it wasn't true. It wasn't just that they fell asleep together watching super boring television programs because, well, she was their daughter.

Stephanie, a girl from her school, said that her dad wasn't really her dad – she'd seen them together in the supermarket and they looked nothing alike – but Anita didn't like Stephanie so she let the other girl's words just float right over her head. Mary liked both of her parents at least a little bit: her mum gave the best fashion advice, and she was so cool about it too, like she didn't even care, and her dad always bought them snacks for their sleepovers no matter how late it was and if they'd just woken him up. And he was really good at getting gum out of hair without maiming it into next century.

Stephanie didn't like Anita, but she did like to corner her in the toilets after PE and push her around a bit, as if this could make everything so much better in her life, including the fact that she had two other sisters and Anita (the uptight bitch, just like her mum) had none. She also liked to throw insults and taunts at Anita, one of them being that her mum was obviously sleeping around, or her dad, or both her mum and dad, and they were going to get divorced soon, which meant a sad and timely end to Anita's perfect little life. Anita let her go on, and she never reported her to any of the teachers or even her parents. Stephanie was a sad girl in the guise of a pretty, popular girl, and though Anita could have told someone, even Mary, she chose not to. Knowing Stephanie hated her so much, knowing the most popular girl in her grade was, underneath it all, a sad and lonely creature, was a comfort. Not because Anita wanted her to be sad, but because if Stephanie was sad, and she had everything she could ever want – popularity, friends, good grades, sisters, parents with money, a real house – Anita had no reason to be. She wasn't popular, she only really had one friend, her grades were average at best, and she didn't have any siblings to speak of; also, her parents weren't rich, and they'd never lived in a house. If all of that just made you sad, then Anita knew she wasn't going to bother with any of it: she'd stay the way she was and she'd stay happy, thank you very much.

It was a surprise then, when for no reason whatsoever, Anita woke up one morning and took her favourite book out of her nightstand and dug out the wrapping paper she'd saved from her last birthday and sat down to wrap her book up, but not before she wrote a quick note on the inside that simply said: To Stephie.

It was even more of a surprise when she left the book at the front office for Stephanie to collect after school. Pulled from a super important conversation with her girlfriends, Stephanie looked properly upset when a woman's voice came over the PA at the end of class instructing her to come to the office. Head down, bent over her workbook, Anita tried not to smile and concentrated on doodling a little drawing of her favourite cartoon character: a strange metal robot with sad eyes, holding a bunch of flowers.

Stephanie didn't stop bullying her, but Anita didn't mind. She hadn't thought she would, anyway.

* * *

1999

Anita was fifteen when Mary told her about Sam. Sam was her boyfriend, she said, her first real boyfriend, and they were serious. Anita didn't cry all at once, but when Mary had left, unable to stay for their regular scheduled (once a month) Thursday night sleepover because she was meeting Sam instead, Anita cried for a full hour until she finally wiped her eyes, climbed out of bed, and went to sleep with Daddy. They ate potato crisps together and watched boring late night TV and Anita asked if her parents were getting a divorce, which was when Daddy explained that that was never going to happen because you had to be married to get divorced, and Mum and he weren't married.

Anita didn't know what to say after that so she said nothing and went back to crunching on her crisps, but in the back of her mind she couldn't stop remembering all of Stephanie's taunts and she wondered, sadly, if it was true: maybe Daddy wasn't her real dad after all.

The next week, she gave up soccer and decided to try out for the swimming team instead. Mum wasn't impressed, but when was she? Stephanie was on the swim team, but that wasn't why Anita wanted to join. She just liked the water. It was calm, like the peace you felt when you knew you had nowhere left to turn, and nothing left to do; when there was nothing left to worry about.

* * *

This was it then, Missy thought morosely, whilst struggling to explain the finer details of algebra to her frowning teenage daughter. This was her life. She was reduced to a mere cog in a mere wheel in a machine that was, for all she could see, going nowhere. Not that she would know, really, though she wasn't ignorant. Stephanie Amber Peterson, a classmate of Anita's, was destined to do great things in the world of robotics, and that, in all probability, was Anita's sole purpose for being. She was simply one part of a larger whole, and a replacement part at that: Olivia Perry's replacement, in fact, since the girl had died unexpectedly at five years of age. But first Anita needed to get better at math, and Missy really wasn't a teacher and no amount of Fruit Loops could calm her frazzled nerves. This, this mess she found herself in now, was not her fault: it was Anita's. Her programming was spotless, above reproach, but for some reason Anita had chosen to lead a dull, unexciting life, and to suck at math.

It just gave Missy a headache.

Standing in line at the checkout with Chang, Missy explained that either he was going to have to have a sit down with the kid or they were going to have to hire a tutor. To her annoyance, he simply said: "She's an artist, Missy. She doesn't care about math."

Missy could have clobbered him then, if not for all of the onlookers, but she just turned away and fumed in silence instead.

The following Saturday, she woke Chang early to help her prepare a picnic basket, grabbed Anita out of bed and marched her to the minivan, and they went for a drive. There was a new housing estate being built across town and that was where Missy parked the car. Then she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to her daughter in the backseat and said: "OK, draw."

Anita pulled a face, grabbed an apple out of the picnic basket, and got to work.

* * *

Anita was observing a beetle by the pool when she heard padding footsteps and looked up to discover Stephanie peering back at her, wringing water from her ginger hair. Done with that, she planted a hand on her hip and asked: "Do you always say 'squee' when you're excited?"

"Not always," Anita replied, pleased that Stephanie hadn't noticed the beetle and stepped on it.

"But mostly?" Stephanie pressed.

Anita thought about that, and about how best to answer. Was it OK that Stephanie, the girl who hated her, knew something so personal about her? What if she used it against her? Then again, she thought, what doesn't she use against you? So she just shrugged and replied: "Mostly."

Stephanie took her hand off her hip. "Do you want to, I dunno, hang out some time?"

Anita stood there, still expecting a taunt or some vitriol to be spat into her face, so it took a moment for her to realise what Stephanie had actually said, and then she just stared. "Huh?"

"That's not 'squee'," Stephanie noted, disconcerted.

"I mean," Anita heaved a big sigh, "do I?"

Stephanie laughed, an actual real laugh, and just shook her head. She moved to leave and Anita's heart jumped in her chest.

"I mean yes!" she cried. "Yes!" And then, for no reason at all, she crossed her legs on the floor, dropped her face into her hands, and started to cry.

Stephanie just stood there, dumbfounded. "Squee," she muttered, not even a little excited. She'd never even known Anita could cry. It just seemed like she was genuinely born without that function.

She knelt down on the floor and wrapped her arms around the shaking, sobbing girl. "Don't cry. Stephie's here."

* * *

Anita had gone out with friends for the NYE celebrations, but Missy and Chang stayed home, in the little apartment over the florist's shop, and sat in the window sipping champagne.

It was a cold night, full of frost and biting wind, but Missy found the weather refreshing compared to the stifling thought of all the years she'd wasted on this venture. She could feel it now; everything was going to be OK. She took another sip of champagne and gazed out into the night.

"She's not any sort of robot, is she?" Chang said quietly. "She never was."

"She was broken," Missy replied. There was no use denying it now, she supposed. "I thought I could help her. I wanted to… prove to myself that it could be done. But I failed. She was too broken." She sighed, took another sip of her bubbly drink. "The offer was there but, in the end, she didn't want to come back. She'd had a good life in the Nethersphere and she just wanted to sleep, or whatever happens next. She's gone now, onto her next great adventure. I would have preferred it to be her but no dice. I gave the position to someone else instead. I gave it to-"

"Seb," Chang whispered, not even surprised anymore.

Missy sighed. She glanced around, meeting his eyes. "I did try, you know? Anita's triumph over evil was going to be… something special. It was not easy but I mended her body and we worked through what happened, but Anita's soul refused to bond with its old body. I couldn't save her. I failed."

"You have new orders?"

Missy nodded silently.

"You're leaving her?"

"We're leaving her," Missy corrected. "She needs this push. She'll either stumble and fall, or she won't."

"This is cruel. You must see that."

Missy refused to look into his eyes, instead reaching for the bottle to top up her glass. "Those are my orders. Our orders, Dr. Chang. If we don't do this, it could all fall apart. We can't afford for this to fail."

"No," he murmured.

"Champagne?" Missy offered, bottle in hand.

"No." He sighed and took the bottle from her, drinking straight from the bottle. "You're pleased?"

"Yes," she laughed, unguarded for the first time in a long time. Her eyes burned brighter because she was pleased. She'd been terribly morbid these last few years. "Oh yes!"

"She's a good person."

"Without a doubt," Missy agreed.

"But that's just a detail," Chang said, guessing after her thoughts.

"Honestly?" She simply smiled. What was there to say? What explanation could she give? In the end, he was right: so long as the mission succeeded, all the rest were just details.

"Come inside with me," she said. "We can stay a little longer; watch the countdown on the television."

They climbed back inside and he stared at her for a moment. Then he said: "I've seen it before."

She supposed that was true. There was sadness in his face now and she moved before she could second guess herself and change her mind. It wasn't just for him, it was for her too. She'd always wondered why he hadn't made more of the bad situation that had been handed to him; why he never even tried, and if this was her last chance, then she was going to take it. She had nothing left to lose.

She grabbed the bottle from his hands and set it down on the window sill. All of those years she couldn't help feeling a tiny bit worthless in his eyes, like a thing, and not even a pretty thing, but she was so confused because he always talked to her. After every argument, he was still there.

She placed a hand on his chest deliberately and pushed him back against the wall, her eyes locked with his, looking for a sign. Seeing nothing – not revulsion or fear or desire – she pressed her body close and moved her mouth to cover his. She kissed him and he let her, but he didn't kiss her back.

She broke the kiss, just a bit disappointed. She couldn't understand why he'd just done nothing. And now, he wasn't even angry. "Did I do it wrong?" she asked, unable to help herself.

He smiled. "No."

She frowned and swooped in for another kiss. This time, his hands came up to gently grip her arms. She pulled back, confused and a bit hurt. She looked into his eyes, searching for an answer, but there was nothing.

"It's nothing that you did, Missy; it's me. I could give in and give you what you want, but, in the end, it would just be a detail to you. If there was never a chance, I'm not even going to try."

A frown flitted across her face and he released her arms. "I don't understand," she said, and she didn't.

He smiled again and reached for the champagne bottle. "I know." He turned away.

She put a hand on his arm and tilted her head. "Explain it to me," she asked. "Please."

He looked at the floor, taking her hand from his arm carefully. "I can't."

"I want to understand," she said. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Just talk to me."

He smiled a bit and walked away.

* * *

Their next trip was to a water planet and Missy, soaking wet and sporting bits of alien plant life in her hair, turned to Chang and grabbed his arm. "OK, I changed my mind. Let's go back."

He laughed and tucked some wet hair behind her ear so she could see better.

END


End file.
